


put your back on me

by placeless



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Cutting, Depression, Heartbreak, I wrote this like a month ago, M/M, anyway yeah um, i think there was a fic that was supposed to go with it, i'm not sure what it was really about, lmao maybe i'll complete that one day, um, what do I tag this, where ryan like was in a café and he met brendon and brendon became his muse??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 11:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6609040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/placeless/pseuds/placeless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ryan is ripping apart at the seams i.e. am i okay</p>
            </blockquote>





	put your back on me

**Author's Note:**

> this is so old & so short but i felt guilty for not posting anything so here's an old one-shot i wrote one angsty night

ryan is ripping apart at the seams. his emotions are overdosing in an alley, hanging themselves in the foyer, just to escape a life where he only exists. nothing else.

he pulls at his hair in the bathroom and swallows painkillers to make his headache go away, but it just gets stronger and he keeps pulling his hair and it’s a cycle that never ends. he starts crying at some point, reaching for his notebook. it’s filled with scraggly words, all put together to form something beautiful, something amazing. but it’s not beautiful and it’s not amazing, it’s _ugly_ and it doesn’t mean _anything._ he starts to tear at the cover, tears falling on the yellowing pages.

a year before, he’d had this idea that he could do anything. that he could be whatever he wants to be, that he can write whatever he wants to write. and then this boy — this _angel_ — had shown up, in a coffeeshop like some sappy romance book from the adult section of the library. brendon. _brendon._

months and months, he’d spent. pouring all his love into him, kissing him, writing the best words that he’s ever written in his whole goddamn meaningless life. the sun had set too many times to count, the moon had risen so many times that it just became a blur in the sky, and brendon lost everything. or at least, in ryan’s eyes he had.

his music stopped sounding so sweet, his words so innocent. his hair seemed greasier, his recklessness old, used. nothing but the last line to a shitty novel.

ryan pulls at his hair some more, taking a clump of it with him.

they had been so in love, so infatuated with one another. at least ryan had been. brendon always seemed somewhere else, maybe at a concert, or in the night sky, instead of in bed with ryan. sex had become meaningless, love even more so. maybe it had all faded into brendon. maybe ryan could never love again because he’d given everything to brendon. maybe brendon would go and get another boyfriend, another girlfriend, another _anyone._ maybe ryan would die alone, in a bathroom in a mental asylum because he isn’t fit to live in this world anymore.

an empty sob leaves his lips and he looks at his wrist. he’d tried to cut them earlier, but had only finished one. it hadn’t hurt physically, more mentally than anything. the blood had made him sick, the razor had seemed like a gun that he was holding to his head. he doesn’t want to die. he just wants to fade.

his skin has already grown over the cut, covering it. he laughs, bitter and tasteless. at least his skin works, even if he doesn’t. at least his skin is there for him, even if no one else is. well, everyone _is_ there for him, he’s just not there for them. not there for himself. not there for _brendon. goddamn brendon._

his muse had left as quickly as it had come. inspiration comes in short bursts, but this time it had felt different. maybe he had been wrong.


End file.
